


Ulterior Motives

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, M/M, No Slash, Romance, Season/Series 03, Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-19
Updated: 2004-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: An alternative ending to episode 303; Michael never shows up with Chinese take-out at the loft, and Brian is horny and persistent.





	Ulterior Motives

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"Ethan?" Justin called, poking his head inside the cramped apartment; the door creaked as he shuffled inside. The blond made a point of pressing his palm firmly to it until he heard the latch's reassuring click, and considered sliding the deadbolt into place for good measure, but decided against it for the time being. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that this part of town gave him; even when he was in his lover's arms, the notion that one of his shadier neighbours might be trying to break in -- Ethan didn't have much, but his violin would have been worth *something* -- creeped him out somewhat.

Seeing that his curly-haired boyfriend was absent (he was always in the music department at PIFA practicing his nimble little fingers off these days, it seemed), Justin wasted no time in setting up shop in the space designated roughly as the "living room". Booting up his laptop, the blond artist felt a twinge of guilt; he hadn't liked the idea of using the machine that Brian had purchased for him, but he had been grateful all the same. After the bashing, he hadn't been sure if he'd be able to draw again, let alone how, so the specialized computer had been a God-send. 

Nonetheless, the fact remained that Brian had refused to allow him to give it back. "I packed it for you," he'd indicated, staring listlessly at the television; Justin pretended not to notice him mouthing the words to the sappily romantic movie he was making a show of watching. It was obvious that the older man had memorized the scene. 

"It's yours," Justin had said awkwardly.

"Bullshit. You need it. Take it," Brian had returned tonelessly, eyes still not meeting his ex-lover's. Days later, the desolate expression stayed engraved in Justin's mind. He turned the exchange over in his head, wondering if he should regret not throwing himself into Brian's arms or even apologizing for leaving him in the first place. 'No,' he told himself ruefully. 'He looked affected, but that doesn't mean he truly gives a shit that I'm gone. Brian just can't stand to have somebody one-up him.' Still, he felt a twinge of remorse as he drew across the computer screen with the specialized pen, and even moreso when he considered who and what said drawing was for; it was the main reason he'd been so relieved that Ethan was still at school -- he wasn't keeping anything from his boyfriend, Justin rationalized. He just didn't want to conjure up any more animosity than necessary. 

The terms of the agreement replayed themselves in his head. "I have a proposition," the older man had said, approaching him at the diner and carefully maneuvering himself so that Justin was nearly trapped in a corner. The blond gave him a Look; "a *business* proposition," the brunet emphasized. The charming smile on his face still managed to take Justin's breath away. 

"What did you have in mind?" he'd managed, hastily moving sideways to avoid having Brian directly behind him; it felt too ... familiar. 

"A poster. Something hot and brilliant," Brian clarified smoothly. "And something by tomorrow." Ah, there was the stipulation. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you could do it," he continued, seeing Justin's dubious expression. 

"And if you weren't desperate," Justin had grinned, half-expecting his ex-lover to tell him to fuck off. But again, Brian surprised him.

"Yeah, that too," he'd said, a tad sheepishly. Justin had been bemused when he found out the circumstances; after the incident with the award ceremony, Brian never passed up an opportunity to shit on the Gay & Lesbian Center. The blond figured he had something else cooked up besides providing GLBT-friendly community service, but he didn't say anything. Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't use the five-hundred dollars that Brian had agreed to commission him with. Since shacking up with Ethan, he'd learned to be quite a lot spend-thriftier, to put it mildly; that large of a bill could go a long way. 

An hour or so later, the blond was so engrossed in his work that he hardly noticed Ethan breeze in, violin case in hand. "Hey, baby," he greeted, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone before he could cross the room to give his lover a kiss. "Yes?" he answered, lips pressed together in vague irritation. "Alright, I'll be there," he said after a while. "Even if it means incurring Ishigura's wrath for not practicing my Bartok." Justin continued working, assuming it had something to do with one of his lover's musically inclined friends.

Ethan turned to Justin a few moments later. "My friends all want to know if my 'imaginary lover' is going to be joining us this evening," he grinned, palm against the receiver to muffle the conversation. 

"Tell them I'd rather eat shit and die," Justin said, not missing a beat. He didn't bother to look up, fearing his inability to do so without rolling his eyes. Ethan's artsy friends made "Gay as Blazes" look like the post-PRIDE celebration at Babylon.

"He says he'd love to," Ethan cooed into the mouthpiece. He hung up a few moments later; "now, why do you have to be so anti-social?" he smiled, massaging the other boy's shoulders. 

"I'm not anti-social," Justin considered, shrugging. "I just can't stand people." He realized how much that comment made him sound like Brian, and wondered silently why that made him feel strangely proud. 

Eventually, Ethan's eyes came to rest on the computer screen; Justin mentally kicked himself for not minimizing the window. "What's this?" he asked, seeming to sense that something was amiss.

"It's a poster I'm working on," Justin replied guiltily. "For a charity event."

"I wish somebody would throw a benefit for us," Ethan mused, eyes growing dreamy at the thought of stardom. 

"Actually," Justin said, hurriedly bringing his lover back to reality, "I'm getting paid for it." 

"Like, as in, dollars?" Ethan asked incredulously. 

"As in, five-hundred dollars," Justin boasted, forgetting for a second that he was trying to keep the deal with Brian hush-hush. 

"No shit," Ethan said, obviously impressed. "How did you swing that?"

Justin faltered. "Just someone I know," he said flimsily. All at once, realization and annoyance dawned in Ethan's eyes.

"Oh, someone you know," he said stiffly. "Someone we both know?" 

Justin sighed. "He needed an artist." 

"And even though he works with dozens of them everyday in his office, he automatically thought of you," Ethan replied, mouth set in a firm line. 

"Maybe he thought I was best qualified for the job," Justin said defensively, but he knew the argument was weak.  
"Or maybe he's trying to win you back," Ethan said, vocalizing what they were both thinking.

"He can try all he wants," Justin said, trying to convince himself as much as his current lover. "What makes you think I would ever go?" He knew the answer, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, I don’t know," Ethan said sarcastically. "He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, he can make cash magically appear?" He was also incredibly hot in the sack, but it wouldn't do to impress that upon Ethan.

"Well, fuck him," Justin said, not liking where the conversation was headed. "And fuck him. I want to be with you." 

"Prove it," Ethan said snottily. And as Justin shoved him roughly down on the bed and pulled off the other boy's trousers and underwear, he tried to make himself believe the words he'd just uttered.

-*-

The next afternoon found him in a precarious perch inside Brian's loft. Justin felt immediately uneasy as Brian let him in; the place had been his home for short periods of time, and he'd certainly patronized it enough to make an impression, but ... that was before he'd left Brian for Ethan. Now, his presence seemed out-of-place, alien, not right.  
Brian studied the drawing Justin had submitted to him approvingly. "His expression needs to be more enticing, but more foreboding. 'Enter at your own risk; prepare to be fucked.'" He smiled wryly at the unspoken-yet-obvious comparison between himself and the fictional character who would be selling tickets to the fundraiser.

"I think I can manage that," Justin said from halfway across the room. He hadn't wanted to get too close; Brian's proximity at the diner the previous afternoon had been unnerving, to say the least. Justin wasn't sure he'd be able to keep himself in check if it happened again.

"You could probably get a better view if you stood a little closer," Brian encouraged. He probably hadn't meant for it to come out so seductively ... 'actually, he probably did,' Justin scowled to himself, shuffling nervously next to Brian until their shoulders bumped. Brian never did anything on accident, after all.

"And his hips," Brian continued fluidly, turning back to the poster in his hand, "need to be more in profile to accentuate his cock." 

Justin gulped. "It's always about sex!" he exclaimed, trying to cover up the fact that his cock probably didn't need to be accentuated; just a couple accidental whiffs of Brian's manly scent had reacquainted him to one of the many reasons he'd enjoyed sharing the ad exec's bed for so long.

Brian just smirked. "Unless it's about death," he said, running his tongue absentmindedly across his lips. "But death doesn't sell tickets." With a note of finality, he set the poster over the back of the couch; it immediately rolled itself up and onto one of the cushions. Hands free, the older man clamped down firmly on Justin's shoulders, steering their bodies into alignment. "Thank you," he said sincerely, turning up the wattage of his smile. 

Justin could feel himself flushing. "Y-you're welcome," he replied hoarsely, not sure where this was going. He made a show of looking at his watch; "I, um, I should go --" 

"What's your hurry?" Brian crooned, eyes fixated on Justin's in a heated glance. His hands slipped down to the blond's waist, drawing him closer, and Justin's breathing hitched.

"B-brian, stop," he said shakily. Then, more to convince himself than the other man, "I have a boyfriend." 

The lust in Brian's face would have been visible, even if Justin had been blind. "Right. Your *boyfriend*," he enunciated, voice a breathy whisper. He leaned his face close enough to whisper in the boy's ear. "But in case you've forgotten," he husked, tip of his tongue running over the shell, making the blond gasp, "I don't believe in boyfriends." 

"Please," Justin begged, heart thudding rapidly in his chest. "This is - I don't want this," he managed, letting out a tiny moan as Brian's hands massaged his ass through his jeans.

"Could have fooled me," Brian chuckled derisively, one hand snaking around to squeeze the blond's not-so-flaccid cock. "Admit it," he ordered, leaving a column of kisses up Justin's slender neck. "You like this." He trailed his tongue along Justin's firm jawline, following it up with hot kisses sprinkled on his chin and cheeks. "You need this," he emphasized, then shoved his tongue inside Justin's barely protesting mouth. 

'Oh, God,' Justin thought desperately, not above pleading for divine intervention. The scent of Brian had been enough to get him hard, but the taste was so painstakingly familiar, so incredibly natural that the boy could feel his resolve ebb away. 'Maybe, just once . . . Ethan won't know . . . neither of us will tell him . . .' And then Brian pulled off his shirt, forcefully enough to assure Justin that *he* would be the one leading this little encounter, yet not so forceful as to pop off any buttons or leave any marks, and Justin wouldn't have been able to remember Ethan's name if his life depended on it.

Brian wasted no time divesting Justin of his clothing; his prediction had been accurate -- the boy's penis stood at rapt attention as his underwear was shed. "This is what you were hoping for," Brian said, half-sneering as he smacked Justin's hands away and unbuckled his own pants. "This is what you dream about, even when you're lying in bed with that fiddler." He swept the blond up into strong arms once his shirt fell to the floor, Justin's choked cry going straight to his own hardened cock. "You belong to me, Justin," he purred, in-between fevered kisses. "You have ever since I fucked you the night we first met." 

Justin's body was awash with sensations. His cock throbbed, his eyes drank in the sight of his ex-lover, amidst thrusting his tongue against Brian's for another taste of forbidden fruit; his head swirled with the words that the brunet said with the regality of a king. "I'm yours," he admitted, letting out a keening cry as Brian stroked his achingly hard cock, making a show of gathering the pre-come on his index finger and licking it off. "I- I love you, Brian." 

The older man froze. Setting the boy down with a thud, he leaned in for another searing kiss; when he broke it off abruptly, Justin panted, then looked up at him in confusion. It was reminiscent of a time not long ago; Brian had found out that Justin was cheating on him with Ethan, had gotten him so hard and wanton that he could barely breathe, and then left him high and dry. "Go take a shower. You stink," he'd said, and then walked off, leaving Justin shaking and miserable. "Brian," the boy murmured in present time, but the older man cut him off.

"Save the pretty words for your boyfriend," Brian hissed. He leaned in and kissed Justin's forehead with a distinct note of finality, smiling nastily all the while. "After all, that's what he's good for." 

Justin was shaking again, but this time, it was in anger. Brian had done it to him again! There was a saying: 'fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me', and it seemed to fit well here. Well, not this time, Justin vowed, seeing red. 'I won't get fabulously fucked by Brian Kinney this time.' 

"You are such an asshole," he spat in Brian's face. The brunet began to laugh, and Justin reared up, smacking him hard across the cheek. Brian's head snapped to the side, more in surprise than actual damage; he watched dumbfounded as Justin quickly pulled on his clothing, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. "Fuck you, Brian," he said as a parting phrase, slamming the loft door as best he could manage with his shoes in hand; he could put them on outside. 

Brian stared after the boy, rubbing his cheek. After a moment of contemplation, he reached for his cell phone, still nestled in the pocket of his discarded trousers, and hit the first number that popped up on speed dial. "Mikey," he said by way of introduction. "Bring some Chinese food over, would you? I'm starved."

-*-

"What happened to you?" Ethan asked, rising from the battered couch to meet Justin as he slunk in. The blond had tried to comb his tousled locks with his fingers after composing himself (he'd gone over to the diner to sulk for a couple of hours), but it was to no avail.

"It's nothing," Justin said dismissively, ducking out of the way as Ethan made to kiss him. "I just ... I need a shower," he muttered, and then after a moment's consideration, added, "I wouldn't want to offend your friends' olfactory senses by smelling like kitchen grease, would I?" 

Ethan smiled; Justin, he assured himself as the blond slouched off to the bathroom, was the perfect boyfriend.


End file.
